#cyrus brackner

[fycourtera]

{libation: chapter one/5} damocles, cyrus/rick & lucy

Damocles: Yes, please show him in. *He was standing at the window of his study, one hand on a cup of tea and the other wrapped gently around the rim of his chair arm.Hearing Nathanial move towards the door once more he took a steadying swig of tea. Of his relatives, Cyrus was the one he had the strange feeling he respected both the most and least at once -- but he did trust him, and he trusted few now. Smiling briefly as he entered he nodded to dismiss Nathanial and said simply,* Good morning. Do you want a cup of tea? *he gestured to the pot still steaming on the cart. He was startled to realize that he had never seen such an impeccably well-dressed and proper man look so worn in his life - but this was not about that. Damocles knew that in the court there were precious few who he could rely on and honestly - whatever his disapproval of Cyrus' actions with his family lately, did not sum the man up anymore than a singular good action did. He respected the man for nearly every other aspect of his life.* Thank you for coming, Cyrus. I appreciate it. 

Cyrus: *He didn't trouble himself with trying to guess what exactly Damocles had summoned him for. Thinking, he found, was something that grew progressively more difficult to accomplish for all his thoughts seemed to want to quickly veer to one subject. Cyrus, however, would not allow himself to appear as distraught as he felt. His suit was tailored perfectly, his shoes polished- every single detail of his appearance was remarkably and thoroughly clean as it always had been. He carried himself proudly as he walked inside Damocles' study. Smiles never came easy for Cyrus, now that was more true than ever, but a pleasant expression he achieved easily.* Yes, thank you. *He had no interest in tea, but it was proper etiquette and Cyrus was a man of propriety, especially now...now it was all he had left.* Of course. *As if he would refute a direct invitation from his reigning Lord.* What can I do for you, my lord?

Damocles: Excellent. *As he poured the tea himself, he did so as much because he could pour his own blasted tea as he did intentionally with the purpose of offering both a gesture of friendship and respect. Lifting it to offer to him, his lips flicked up easily a moment at the title -- he had learned long ago it was more an insult to Cyrus to try and tell him to call him by his Christian name and now, well, he kind of appreciated the courtesy.* If I may be frank, *he nodded - yes he could be -* Cyrus, I trust you and there are few I do at this present moment. *He looked at him steadily through a sip, a gasp, and another thin smile.* As such, I would appoint you to be my defensive councilor. If you would accept. Truth be told you were always my first choice - circumstances simply did not allow me to ask until now. I know it is asking a lot... *By that, he thought to himself that he meant there was the possibility of seeing Frederick in town, but he said nothing of that.*

Cyrus: *He took the offered cup with a soft nod before taking a sip. The tea wasn't scalding hot but it did manage to burn his tongue a little. He had never learned not to, but he had long ago to not show it. The very same thing could be said for every aspect of his life, really. Nodding, knowing that even if he didn't Damocles would speak as he wished, as it was his right to do. He was surprised to hear the honesty of the statement, a bit more than surprised. Cyrus didn't know what exactly he had done to gain Damocles' trust. The next words were even more surprising, and his cup paused in mid air en route to his lips. After a few brief moments, he collected himself, lowering the cup.* My lord, I'm...I'm honored *But hesitant. Councilor of Defense, the position had a lot of responsibility, especially now at this time. He had no training for such a position, and he doubted the Sheriff (in nothing but name anymore) would be of much help. He almost voiced his concerns out loud, almost, but Damocles had already revealed to have little trust in anyone else, and he would not act rashly to appoint him if he didn't think Cyrus was right for the job. The problem was of course, he would need to be in town. But that was his problem, not Damocles, and one brought on by himself so he would handle the consequences. This would be more, was, more important than his personal feelings* I would be honored to accept it my lord, but if I may be so bold as to ask...why do you trust me? *Why do you trust me when no one else does anymore, was the unspoken question, one he disdained to admit even to himself.*

Damocles: *Waiting patiently, his expression cleared visibly but for only a moment - it was all he could allow of himself to show. Momentarily sick at the thought that he knew Cyrus would understand, he cleared his throat by taking another sip of his own fine china.* I'm not trying to honor you. *There was a bitter little chuckle, as he shrugged.* I'm trying to get you to help me. *Sticking one hand in his pocket, a brow arched high as he continued. This time he couldn't help his surprise, nor his twinge of sorrow. Of course he trusted him, he thought, how many times did the man have to prove he put duty above everything? But he didn't want to say that - it seemed unkind, phrased that way. Slowly,* You have never broken your word to me. I asked you for your help in a situation that disagreed with both of us almost twenty years ago and you have stayed true to every facet. This post requires strict adherence to the proper chain of command which, you haven't ever disrespected. And because Cyrus...I've known you over twenty years, and not once have I seen you do anything to undermine or humiliate me even when we disagree, and however it seems, I've always liked you a little more than I think you knew.

Cyrus: Nevertheless, it is how I feel. *An honor, yes, and another duty. A small part of him told himself that he was well within his right to refuse the post, but Cyrus could not, and would not, do it. Quickly, he realized what Damocles meant by his answer: Cyrus was good at following orders. He couldn't help a small smirk at that, though there was no amusement in it, or if there was only the one that came from his own version of irony. He nodded briefly, taking another sip of the tea before looking back again at Damocles.* I will do everything in my power to help you, my lord. *He was about to add "I will not let you down" before he realized in similar ironic amusement, that was a promise he couldn't make anymore.* When would you have me begin?

Damocles: Thank you, Cyrus. *He chuckled once, saying lightly,* So nothing on whether or not you like me beyond that title then? *But how used to that was he? His small grateful smile flicked wider before he said simply,* Two weeks. I wish to appoint you publicly, and I know how much your daughter's wedding means first: so the day following. *He breathed out, undeniably pleased that Cyrus had accepted and takes another sip, his back to the window.*

Lucy: Rick! *Outside on the grounds, she chuckled through her admonishment, unable to keep herself from smiling. His arm was still around hers. They were approaching the actual building now - something that Lucy desperately wished she could further accompany him within, but refused to focus on now. Squeezing his shoulder back, her lips momentarily mashed to his shoulder in retaliation, she nonetheless is grinning wide as she mutters,* What if someone had heard you say that? Would you be quote-unquote defending my virtue even though it was you who brought it up?

Cyrus: *Chuckling in more surprise than amusement as Damocles spoke lightly in a small tease, he realized then how difficult laughter had become as well.* Are you searching for a compliment my lord? *Smirking, no matter how restrained it might have been, was by far much easier. Nodding, grateful for the timing, his expression nevertheless lightened however briefly at the mention of Marietta. His eldest daughter, her wedding mere days away...he could scarcely believe it. As he nodded, his gaze was then caught to a couple he saw outside the window, his entire body rigid.*

Frederick: *a small smirk grazed his lips the moment Lucy admonished him, or rather tried to. It gave away then to a quick grin, focusing on her for he would need a miracle to walk through those halls and not kill someone for one wrong word said in a whisper. He had on the clothes that he had left court in, though they were nowhere near as orderly now, which...he had to admit, rather preferred. He didn't want to make it seem like he was coming back, though undeniably there would always be rumors. He had a folder of everything he prepared for the proposal and he was confident...a little nervous, but confident. He was him, after all.* Then I hope they'd have the good sense to feign being deaf. *he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her before leaning in to kiss her once, pausing his steps.* Alright *he pulled on his tie, straightening out and winked at Lucy* How do I look?

Cyrus: *The difference between the Frederick than had spat on his face and left the manor with the one that was approaching it now was so great that for a split second he hadn't been sure if it was really him. Expecting to find anger or rancor, he was astoundingly surprised at the absent of them. He was transported back almost twenty years ago when Florence had come to his study to speak in Garrett's defense. "When was the last time you saw him this happy" had been her question regarding their brother. Now he was faced with a similar dawning comprehension; he didn't think he had seen Frederick that happy in his entire 23 years. Clearing his throat, he turned to Damocles again, placing the cup of tea on the table* If that is all, my lord, I have some matters to attend to today.

Damocles: If I am, could you blame me? My ego has taken a few hits lately. *Startled how easily the words left his small smile, he shrugged. About to say something else, he paused seeing the man go rigid. It was true that he'd rarely seen him smile, but the look on his face suddenly - had he seen the man look heartbroken for a flash?*

Lucy: Entirely too perfect. *She responded at once with her own lopsided grin, one arm still around his waist. She knew very well why she did not want to let him go. They were now mere feet from a building that represented too much: tradition, pride, grandeur, loss, his family. Reaching up to straighten his collar around the tie - she had done her best to help him clean these clothes twice - there was a small grin on her lips.* Almost. *She straightened it, then leaned in to kiss him herself. The moment their lips met she easily forgot where they were.*

Damocles: *A single glance out the window had explained things, and his face clouded with conflicted emotions. Tempted an instant to order Cyrus to stay here and fetch Frederick so that they would be at least forced to speak, he had softened by the time he turned back and nodded.* Of course. Thank you, Cyrus. Genuinely.

Lucy: *finally pulling back, she asked softly herself,* Are you ready? I'll wait for you...

Cyrus: Thank -you-, my lord. *In his haste to leave, Cyrus might not have bowed as he was meant to, settling for an incline of his head, though he scarcely noticed until he was out. Then he simply just...kept walking.*

[fycourtera]

{chapter seventeen: 11} rick, cyrus

Frederick: *His mother had warned him that father was, for some reason or another, in one of the worst moods he’s had in a while. Rick winced and wished he didn’t have to be sober during this. If his father wanted to see him while he was in this state, Frederick could only imagine what he had done wrong this time. He had ensured all documents arrived at the ministry as was instructed, he had spoken to all of the servants regarding the increase in their wages, and even refrained from practicing with his sword today, so what could be the problem? Oh, damn, he knew he had forgotten something. As he entered his father’s study, he nodded* You summoned me father? *He licked his lips, and waited a few seconds in which his father remained silent, his head bowed over a big leather book* If this is about those reports- Cyrus: *he closed the book shut and then looked up at his son, the words from earlier weighing heavily on his mind. But he couldn’t bring that up, not at that moment, there was another thing to get out of the way first* It’s not about the reports. *He narrowed his eyes as he surveyed him. He would have never expected this from Frederick. He was always so outwardly spiteful of muggleborns and yet he had apparently had a tryst with one. With Frederick it was always one extreme or another; rarely was there a middle ground.* I know about Lucy Harte. Frederick: *His face visibly whitened, his breathing stopped, his heart rate spiked and fear crossed his eyes. How could his father know? Had Etta told him? Or Jane? They were the only ones that knew. If they had…his jaw clenched and he looked down, not being able to meet his father’s eyes.* Father, I…*he cleared his throat, shaking his head* It isn’t… Cyrus: *He watched his son closely, unsure of whether he was relieved or worried to see the shame on his face. It didn’t matter, he supposed, not right at that moment* It doesn’t matter what it used to be, it is over. *His tone was final, his gaze stern* I trust I don’t need to remind you that such interaction as of right now and until Lord Damocles says otherwise, is against the law. Therefore, you are not to speak to her again. Frederick: *his head snapped up, whatever anger he had towards whoever might have told his father the truth was being redirected at the man in front of him himself. His teeth gritted, his eyes narrowed* And if the law changes? Cyrus: *His eyebrows rose to see the defiance in his son’s eyes, and it was with a firm voice that he voiced his next statement* My instructions remain. I’ve spoken to her Frederick, and I will not tolerate such insolence from anyone we associate with. We- Frederick: *he took a step forward, snapping*Do not speak of her that way again. Cyrus: *He stood up, his eyes narrowed* Careful how you address me, Frederick. I am your father. Frederick: *he exhaled, and shook his head, his anger bubbling through, past containment* Some kind of father you are to order me away from the one single person on this world that actually makes me genuinely happy. *His lips pursed together* You met her once and you already deemed her unworthy of me? Because she’s supposedly so far below our station? Cyrus: *he spoke through gritted teeth*Because she’s a disrespectful and rude little girl. Because it is illegal. Because I do not want scandals of any kind, Frederick. Frederick: A scandal? Oh father, I could easily make a scandal out of it; I didn’t. I went to her in secret, met her in secret, fell in love with her in secret, and you know what? I am so bloody tired of watching everything I say, of listening to these dumb aristocrats insulting her and her kind, and most of all I’m tired of trying to stay away from her. Cyrus: *His nostrils flaring, he took a step away from his desk, his voice tight and enraged* It is forbidden! Frederick: *he steeled himself, standing up straighter and looking at his father in the eyes* I don’t care. I’m going to her and if they want to lock me up for it afterwards well they can bloody try, because unless you haven’t noticed, I haven’t met anyone who can go toe to toe with me on my worst day, let alone my best. Cyrus: Frederick Brackner, I am your father, and your Lord, you will show me some respect- Frederick: You should show Lucy some respect! She’s worth ten times of anybody at this court. And I treated her horribly. *he swallowed dryly, shaking his head* But I won’t let you treat her that way. She’s more than just a muggleborn who would besmirch our precious family name. Cyrus: I don’t care if she’s a saint, or if she’s the most educated person there is Frederick; you. will. not. see. her. again. Frederick: *He breathed heavily and then took a couple of more steps forward until he was right in front of his father. Leaning in, he only said two words* Fuck you. *he turned away from him suddenly, intending to walk out of the study* Cyrus: *Appalled and furious, his voice boomed out as he shouted at his son’s back* FREDERICK! If you walk out of here right now, I will not allow you to return. Frederick: *The threat was real, Rick knew that. His shoulders hunched low for a moment, and he closed his eyes, breathing before he straightened up again and kept walking, opening the door and then slamming it shut behind him. He didn’t want to be here if it meant living like this. He didn’t want this life if it meant living it without Lucy. He was just angry it had taken him this long to figure that out. He was so enraged, so glad to just walk out of there that he didn’t even stop to pack anything. He ran into his mother on his way out, her eyes wide, her voice pleading, asking him where he was going, what had happened, to stay. He couldn’t, he shook his head and shrugged out of her hold* I can’t, mother. I’m sorry. *He moved quickly out of his family’s quarters, out of the hallways, out of the manor, just away from court and towards Lucy. He’d beg for forgiveness for an eternity if it was necessary, but he couldn’t stay away from her any longer*

[fycourtera]

{chapter seventeen: 10} lucy, cyrus

Lucy: *Lucy's hand snapped down over her father's wrist.* It's all right, I have it. *She could have let her father interrupt himself, or even could have helped the man he already was with, but she recognized the man walking into the stables. Tall, dressed to impress, sandy hair and a jaw made for smirks instead of smiles. She knew that jaw anywhere. Of course, if she hadn't seen him at the ball, she wouldn't even have known it was him, but seeing they shared a jaw still put a catch in her throat. She had stopped herself once from going over to him, she couldn't do it again. Exhaling, her feet had stepped towards him before she knew it.* My lord. *Respectfully bowing her head as ever, fist curling the fabric of her skirt harder than normally as she curtsied, unusually she kept it short. As she came back up, she pressed her lips together, and then asked decisively,* Lord Cyrus Brackner, right? *Her heart beat faster just saying the name. She wanted to see it was absolutely him before she decided to say more--or so she told herself, for her blood was already running a bit hot. Rick hadn't come, it had been just over two weeks, and frankly as much as she believed he was a good person--she also knew him. It was hard to keep faith he would visit when the law and his family both told him not to. Yet she kept her expression light, a smile in place: she didn't know everything, she reminded herself, she had never met his father before. Oh, right. In fact...* I'm Lucy. How may I help you? Cyrus: *With Marietta's wedding date already set, Cyrus wanted to be done with all the preparations that he was doing as soon as possible, which was quite simply, paying for the arrangements and acquiring Etta's wedding present. Well, one of her wedding presents. It was so odd to him. He had already given up on Etta marrying at all, had made his peace with it long ago, and yet there he was; his firstborn, his daughter, was getting married. If he were any other man, he might have shed a tear but he wasn't, he was Cyrus Brackner. Walking in to the stables, it did not take long for someone to attend him. He looked up, nodding politely as the young woman bowed.* Yes. Good afternoon, Miss...? *He was devoid of her name, but he was given one rather quickly and he nodded again, taking off his gloves and taking a brief look around the stables.* Lucy, yes. I sent a message expressing my interest in purchasing one of your gaited breeds? Lucy: *She seen that message. Of course her attempts to learn to read by meeting with Esther were clearly not going well as she thought they were. She had learned to spell and read "Brackner" quickly -- but evidently "Cyrus" was still apparently out of her reach. (If she was being honest, any name that wasn't her own, the town's, Esther's, or Frederick, was kind of out of her reach.) She also hadn't suspected Cyrus to come himself: she and her father had assumed he would send a servant. Well, thank God she did know where the three he had first thought of with the message were enclosed. But as she was given concrete proof this was Frederick's father, something inside her snapped. She drew in breath, and said genially,* It's Harte, m'lord, my father's the owner. He has a few for you to look at, if you want to follow me...? He will be available soon. *She gestured with a head nod, her lips pressed together. As they approached the enclosures, she patted her hand down one of the manes, and then heard herself ask,* If you don't mind my asking, my lord, the message said it was for one of your children...? *She knew perfectly well which one it was, but the words had left her mouth before she thought them through.* Is it for...well, you're Frederick's father, aren't you? Cyrus: *His eyebrows rose as she corrected him, bristling, when all he had done was repeat the name she had given him. It was mostly subtle, but it was a poor attitude nonetheless, one he rarely encountered. Even still, he ignored it and with his hands clasped behind his back, he nodded curtly* Thank you, Ms. Harte. *He followed her to where the horses were being kept, looking over all of them quickly. He knew this required much more than one glance, but Cyrus never discounted the importance of a first impression. Turning back to the young woman, he wasn't particular to simply speaking of his private life to strangers, but this was information that had been included in the letter, and pertained to the sale, so he answered* I am. *He was not surprised that Frederick was so readily known, and he didn't really care how she knew, so he left it at that.* The horse is for my eldest daughter, Marietta. Lucy: *He seemed to take offense to something, though Lucy couldn't fathom what she had done beyond answer his questions.  His nod became curt, his brows arched and her stomach dropped seeing mannerisms so familiar repeated on a face she hardly knew, yet seemed to be aware of intimately. As he responded to 'Ms. Harte' now she realized he'd thought she was correcting him, so rather than say 'oh, just call me Lucy' with a laugh to try and dissolve the misunderstanding, she let it go for fear she insult him again--turned to whistle under her breath. Lord, it truly was easy to make this man disapprove, was it? Actually, truth be told she wasn't afraid to insult him. Just not about something that didn't matter. As he said Etta's name, she smiled briefly, nodding.* Oh, that's right, my lord. Etta's getting married. *Wedding gossip spread quickly, particularly when it was the sole good news amongst so much bad. Reaching up her hand to tuck hair behind her ear, she waited while he looked at the horses. With his back to her, she waited, hands clasped behind her back anxious, feeling as though she had an opportunity here she wasn't sure how to grasp, but damn if she was going to let it slip through her fingers -- if she never saw Rick again, even if he hated her for defending him in this manner, she wanted to say something. And yet again, she spoke before realizing it.* I'm sorry, Lord Brackner? *She presses her lips together until he meets her eyes. Her voice is fluttery, her limbs shaky, but there's a sudden strength in her tone.* While you're here...I wonder, if I could ask a question about Frederick? You don't know who I am, and I know that. And so you could say this is none of my business, and you'd be right to, and I know that too, but the truth is...your son made it my business a long time ago. *She eyed him evenly.* And I haven't seen him, and I want to make sure he's all right. Cyrus: *Well, that was rather improper. Who was this girl to be referring to his daughter in such a familiar way? Heaven knew Marietta was acquainted with nearly anyone and everyone (a quality that was sure to help her and her husband-to-be during the coming election), but as to why Miss Harte would think it was okay for her to refer to his daughter as such, he was at a loss. He thought the idle conversation would have ended there until her father returned but she spoke again, and he turned to look at her once more. And when she inquired about his son, his eyebrows raised again. Oh Frederick, what had that boy gotten into this time? His jaw tight, he cleared his throat silently and then answered simply* He is well. But I will have to ask you, Miss Harte, not to inquire about him again. *His eyebrows arched higher for a moment* I do not know the nature of your business with my son, frankly, I do not care. *He shook his head. He just took relief in the fact that at least they hadn't seen each other in what seemed to be a while* It is improper, and more importantly, at this moment, it was illegal. *He knew very well she was muggleborn now that those who worked at or for the court were required to identify themselves and submit to certain security policies.* Lucy: *Her jaw tightened, aggravation coupling with the strangest swell of freedom. It was true she hadn't honestly cared about insulting him, and her 'impertinent' nature, as Charles called it, had a way of bleeding through in this instance. Yet to hear him frankly dismiss and deny her the ability to ask about Rick further, any lingering wish to be polite evaporated. Particularly as the word 'illegal' came up: oh yes, of course, she should only interact with Rick now on business, because she was otherwise too subservient to deal with. Lips flicking in a tight smile, the change in her demeanor was only readily apparent in her eyes. Her stance did not waver, small and statuesque beside this tall, impressively intimidating man. Wide blue eyes held his, but her voice remained soft and sweet, though now sarcasm rang through her tone.* Oh, it is improper. And illegal, that's very true, as you seem to have guessed I wasn't giving Frederick horseback lessons. *Rides of a different kind, but she bit back that statement just in time. She looks away a second, muttering under her breath,* And if those were truly his reasons, I could stop caring to--well, not stop caring about his well-being, because at least somebody does, but -- well actually, that's the point. *She looks back up, now in a half glare.* Rick's afraid of letting you down, Lord Brackner. He doesn't believe, he doesn't know, that you love him. I say know, because he is wrong, isn't he, you do love your son? You just don't show it to him. I know I don't know you, and I don't presume to, but I know how you've acted around Rick, and I know how it's made him feel. *She holds her own hands tightly, still talking quickly, looking up at him.* And he's so petrified of letting you down, the thought of your disappointment offends him so much, he won't let himself be happy. Truly, he's well? I will take you at your word, my lord, rejoice for that news, glad you've paid attention. For it is hard to reconcile with him saying everyone hates him, so why shouldn't he hate himself? *She breathes out, the words bitter.* Not that everyone does. I tried to tell him that, but it didn't matter, because who really needs to tell him it is you.  He's miserable, and I don't understand. Do you not see how brilliant he is? How talented at swordsmanship and quick with his mind? How accomplished he is at making someone else smile, how much he respects you, your family, your legacy? And how different he is from everyone else at court--how unique, between being proud of his legacy, and striving for something more out of life? Do you not see it? Or do you? I imagine that would be even worse, to know but never tell him. Frederick is one of the best people I have ever met. But he doesn't believe that. He hurts himself, he pushes affection and friendship away, and it honestly hurts me to watch. He doesn't believe anyone can love him, because he thinks you don't. Nothing he does is good enough for you. So yes, I am well aware my conduct is 'improper', my lord, and I would beg your pardon, but frankly, I don't care. I think your conduct towards your son is far worse than my impudence. It's abhorrent, truly. And I think you have the world too bloody scared to tell you this, so I will. Cyrus: *His face was impassive. His face was always impassive when he needed it to be. It was his rock, his wall, his defense. He had perfected it years ago, long before he took over his father as Lord, long before he married Arabella and long before he had gotten out of Hogwarts. He had dealt with so many different kinds of people in his life, and they all had different ways that they thought would get to him. None of them succeeded, but this one? This one was getting very close. It wasn't every day that his fears were put in words, confirmed by a stranger, thrown in his face. It wasn't every day he was told that he had failed at the one thing he had set out in his life to do, the moment he first held a pink wrinkled ball of a baby and he realized his own life meant nothing. But Brackners did not do well with shame, and he turned it to anger instead. Cold, furious, and silent anger* Who are you to tell me how I treat my son? You have no idea what I do for them, what I've done for them from the moment they were born, what I will continue to do for them until the day I last draw breath from this world. You have no idea of who I am, of who my family is. Oh I'm sure my son has informed you on many things, I have no doubt, but you've not seen my family with your own eyes. And yet you speak of my conduct. And there you stand, throwing judgements my way for not being a 'good enough father'. There you stand upon a false pedestal, you. What do you know of children, Miss Harte? What do you know of such a love, a love bigger and more unselfish than anything else? *his eyebrows rose* No, do not presume to tell me what I've done wrong. Do not presume to say it hasn't been enough. You might -have- been a part of my son's life *he shook his head* but you are not part of this family, my family, and you have no right. How dare you? Lucy: *She stayed still, listening with a fierce determination to process each individual word. She wanted to know what he said, and she was rapidly realizing it summed up into one sentiment. His fervor did not shake her, for she had been expecting the 'how dare you' comments, but the proof made her head shake a half inch each ways, slowly. Her eyes flashed at the last comment and then said simply, without any sort of bitterness in her voice, much louder than she had said anything else.* I dare, because my blood status, my lord, does not preclude me from having opinions or the intelligence to state them. They aren't worth less than yours. No, you're right, I don't know what you've done for them, what you would do for them, I couldn't possibly understand that love. I don't even doubt you do. It's ironic, really, because Rick's so sure he's a disappointment? You disappoint me. My father might not have the impressive last name, but he still told me he loved me every night as he told me princess tales, tucked me into bed. I don't know specific acts, and I haven't seen you with your family, I don't know what you're like with bedtime stories -- I know you've been to his tournaments. He mentioned that. So you're right, I don't know how much you love them, I'm glad to hear you defend him, glad to see I was right in saying you do care-- I know, I do not know how you love them, because I couldn't possibly. But neither does Rick, my Lord. You should tell him. You should tell him everything you told me. Cyrus: *he gritted his teeth in annoyance, shaking his head at her, his anger rising in a way that even he wasn't sure where it had originated from. He didn't interrupt her, that much he could do. He was still himself, he was still polite and dutiful, and that was all he really knew how to do. He wasn't good with emotions, but he never thought, not for one second that it would to this. And if even half of what this girl was saying was true...the thought filled him with such dread.* Why do people, pureblood, muggleborn and everything in between insist on making every single disagreement about blood status? Did I once, just once, even give the tiniest hint that you should not be entitled to opinions or doubt your intelligence? No, I asked you the same thing I would have asked of any person intruding on my family's personal life. Or is it that you did not like hearing the hard truth about the current situation? I haven't, and won't be delicate. So stop using your mistreatment and desire for equality as an excuse to circumnavigate and ignore common courtesy by speaking rudely, and of things of which you have no idea, while insulting me all the while. *He lifted his chin and then spoke coolly* Please inform your father for me that I shall be taking my business elsewhere. Good day to you, Ms. Harte. Lucy: No, you said I did not have the right to ask you any question at all, because doing so, or seeing him again, would be improper and illegal. *But Lucy shut up after that, curious to hear him admit to her mis-treatment, curious to realize she recognized this attitude and this behavior as easily as she had recognized the stern line of his chin. She'd won, she realized, though it was a cold sentiment and it didn't feel it. She had made him think, he was pushing her off now just as Rick did, not wanting to listen or admit to it, finding it easier to deal in anger than hurt. It made her suddenly sad to see the resemblance, and she pressed her hand to her lips. She thought of something else she could say: she was, or as he had put it (and the thought made her heart crash against it's cage in a rapid, bitter attempt at escape) part of Rick's personal life, in her opinion that gave her the right -- but she let it drop, because it was childish, petty and she knew already if her goal had been to tell him the truth on Rick's behalf, she had done that. She winced briefly at the last---wondering how she would explain that to her father, blushing at the idea of trying to explain to him her connection. Nodding once, she swept a curtsy as she was dismissed out of hand, eyes locked on his. Her words were quiet as he left.* I'm sorry, my lord. I should have told you in a kinder way. *It was at least true: she did not regret telling him, but seeing the look on his face, the anger, the pain, the frustration--she was suddenly guilty to think she had done that to Rick's father. How was this supposed to help anything? She had just told him, hadn't she, that Rick had been seeing her -- he could read between the lines, of that she was sure -- she'd betrayed a secret Rick had worked desperately to keep from him for months. And if that was partially why, and she could admit it was, what did that say about her that she would just disregard Rick's wishes like that? But did it matter, anyway? Rick wasn't coming back, she knew that: it was illegal, improper, his father would certainly never approve now. She might have felt bad about having royally screwed that up, but she realized he wasn't going to have approved in the first place. No, he couldn't have his son be so improper. Angry, she kicked the side of the stables, and rubbed her forehead. The throbbing pain in her toe made her wince, and then a small smile crossed her face as she reached back for the horse he'd been looking at. Patting their side, she spoke softly,* Sorry to you too. I guess I'll just have to look after you a little longer. That's okay though, with you, isn't it?  *The horse nudged her, and she laughed, gratefully hugging them around the neck before muttering into it,* Maybe it'll sink in for him. Maybe he will tell Rick. I hope so. *The horse neighed, and she let out a breath of relief, choosing to take that as a sign they agreed.*